


Lace

by freshfuckinpot



Series: Dave/Link [3]
Category: Foo Fighters, Rhett & Link
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Rimming, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 17:36:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18015335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freshfuckinpot/pseuds/freshfuckinpot
Summary: “When you come that weekend,” Dave starts, and when he pauses, Link finds himself making a sound of agreement, “I wanna try something.”“You always wanna try something, man,” Link laughs. This isn’t new, either. He’s pretty sure their whole relationship has been about trying things.“Yeah,” Dave agrees, chuckling lowly. “Will you wear panties for me?” His voice is pitched down pointedly, and Link’s mouth goes a little dry. “If I buy them for you, will you wear them?”





	Lace

**Author's Note:**

> [ these would be nice to have in your thoughts as you read this](https://www.nancymeyer.com/Bordelle-Amaya-Open-Brief/PAAAIAJDAMCINABM/product?color=BLUE%20%2f%20GOLD)

Introspectively, Link thinks he might be selfish. 

Maybe not in any certain way that’s  _ bad _ , really, because he’s a firm believer in there being some balance in life of doing for others and doing for yourself. So, he doesn’t think that his selfishness is inherently negative on anyone. 

But he is probably selfish. Which is what he tells Christy when he gets a call from Dave about his entire weekend off in France during the hundredth leg of this tour the band’s on and how he wanted to know if Link could get that weekend off too by any chance so that Dave could fly him there. 

His exact reasoning was, “Because sex is better in France.” And, well. 

Link trusts his opinions, usually. 

“Did you talk to Rhett about it?” is Christy’s first question, and Link gives her a pointed look. “Oh, Link, don’t you look at me like that. You know I’m going to tell you to go.” 

“You’re my wife, not Rhett,” Link tells her, stealing a sip of her wine. They’re outside on the swing in the backyard, stealing a moment of silence together while the kids get ready for bed. He’s sure they’ll have one of them between them soon enough, but for now, he’s reveling in being alone with her. 

“He’s kind of your wife,” Christy teases. “What did you tell Dave?” 

“That I had to talk to you about it.” He leaves out the part where Dave had purred at him to make sure and tell Christy all the details. Thinking, he steals another sip, and she jams her fingers in his side in revenge. 

As he squirms with a laugh, she says, “Bring me back some wine, and I won’t even ask you for pictures.” 

He tugs her in to kiss her on the cheek as he laughs, and murmurs in her ear, “You can have pictures any time you want, baby.” 

“I know. Dave’s offered already,” she says, and curls back against him as she giggles. Once she’s settled, and so has the air around them, she asks, “You think you’ll be able to get away from work?” 

“Well,” Link hesitates, because it’ll be cutting it close, but it’s not impossible. “The weekend he’s talking about is the weekend before we come back from break.” 

“That’s a tight squeeze,” Christy agrees, but she shrugs her shoulders and tells him, “Do it. What’s the worst that could happen?” 

“I can think of like thirty worst things off the top of my head.” 

Admittedly, he’s a worrier, and he doesn’t like racing against the clock like this whole thing would entail. 

“Your boyfriend is offering to fly you to France for a weekend just so he can fuck you,” Christy deadpans. “All I’m saying is that you can sleep on the plane.” 

Link sighs dramatically, tugging her closer. “You know, when you put it that way…,” he trails off. 

“Okay everything with Rhett tomorrow,” Christy says, and Link can see Lando opening the door to the backyard, so she hurriedly says, “And make it two bottles of wine. We’ll talk later about the pictures.” 

\--

“He wants to fly you to France?” 

“Yeah, man. You know how he is,” Link says, shrugging. It sounds less absurd the more it’s spoken out loud, but Rhett’s eyebrows are nearly in his hair, and he’s stopped eating for enough time to stare Link down. “What?” 

Rhett shakes his head around a laugh, stabs another piece of chicken onto his fork. “You didn’t immediately tell him yes?” 

Link laughs around his mouthful, and tells him, “I had to make sure it was something I could make work!” 

“Man, that’s something you make work regardless of what else you have going on,” Rhett laughs. “He into tall blondes?” 

“He is,” Link nods, chews a little slower, because that’s not something he needs to think about. “He’s into a lot of things, man.” Dave has met Rhett, has made comments, but he’s a flirt and Link didn’t think anything about it. Dave likes to tease, likes to make Link squirm, so it’s not a surprise when his stomach twists up at the thought of Rhett and Dave together. 

But gosh, that’s not something he needs to think about at all. 

Rhett snorts, pours all of his attention back to his food. They both fall quiet for a second before Rhett starts chuckling again, and Link looks up to ask what he’s laughing at. And Rhett has his head tossed back, eyes squeezed shut as he full-on belly-laughs, and Link just says, “What’s so freakin’ funny, man?” 

“The look on your face,” Rhett says through his laughter. “I’m not gonna steal your boyfriend from you, I promise.” 

Link snorts, shakes his head. “I wasn’t making a face.” 

Calming himself down, Rhett hums, completely pleased with himself. “So, how does Christy feel about all this?” 

“She just asked me to bring her back a couple bottles of wine,” Link says around another bite. He almost mentions the joke about the pictures, just to see what shade of red Rhett would turn if he did, but he decides against it. That’s not exactly something he needs to think about, either. 

“Bring me one, too,” Rhett tells him. “For having to deal with your grouchy ass the next week.” 

“Man, I’m not bringing you wine,” Link laughs. “You can share with Christy.” 

Rhett hums again, raises his eyebrows playfully. “She is pretty good at sharing.” 

The joke was too easy, and Link just groans, pulls a face at Rhett when he starts cackling again. He’s pleased as punch, and Link reaches over to steal some chicken off his plate to make up for his lame joke. 

\--

He’s in the bathroom when he decides to call, and he half expects it to go to voicemail like it tends to do if he calls during a normal time of the day. 

Instead, it only rings a couple of times before Dave is answering, voice low and teasing like it always is when he says, “You know, I was just thinking about you.” 

“Oh yeah?” Link asks, his stomach twisting up in a familiar way.  

“What you got for me?” is what he says instead of giving Link anything else. But he hears background noise, and it probably means he’s not in appropriate company, so he reminds himself to text Dave about it when they’re done talking instead. 

Stealing himself, Link drums his fingers along the countertop before he says, “Uh, I’m free for that weekend you mentioned, if that’s something you still want to do.” 

“Oh, fuck yeah, man,” Dave says, genuine-sounding excitement pouring out of his words. “You’re sure?” 

“Yeah,” Link promises, sucking in a breath. “Christy and Rhett both basically told me I was an idiot for not saying I could go the second you asked me.” 

“Well,” Dave chuckles, “I’d say invite them, too, but I kind of want you all to myself.” 

And Link doesn’t hear that noise anymore, can hear what sounds like fabric shifting together, so he says, “What were you thinking about before I called?” 

This is easy, familiar at this point, and he slips into the game with comfort, meandering out of the bathroom and into his empty bedroom. On the other end of the line, Dave hums, that pleased little sound he always makes when Link plays along. It sends a line of heat rolling down Link’s spine. “When you come that weekend,” Dave starts, and when he pauses, Link finds himself making a sound of agreement, “I wanna try something.” 

“You always wanna try something, man,” Link laughs. This isn’t new, either. He’s pretty sure their whole relationship has been about trying things. 

“Yeah,” Dave agrees, chuckling lowly. “Will you wear panties for me?” His voice is pitched down pointedly, and Link’s mouth goes a little dry. “If I buy them for you, will you wear them?” 

Link groans without meaning to, his face going hot at the sound, and he hears Dave shifting on the other end again. He wonders where he is, how far they can let this go, how far Link himself is comfortable letting this go. 

“Yes,” he says, when his heart stops pounding. “Yeah, Dave, I’ll wear them for you.” 

“Will you let me eat you out while you wear them?” 

And it--

Gosh, it’s the  _ way  _ he says it, growling around it, just barely above a whisper, and Link doesn’t realize it when his hand curls around to his inner thigh. 

“Yeah,” he groans, and he can hear Dave chuckling warmly. “Gosh, Dave.” 

Dave hums, and Link’s heartbeat is in his ears, too loud, too much at the idea of Dave getting him dressed how he wants before spreading him out on his bed in his hotel room, obscene and filthy, and eating his ass in the middle of France. 

And Dave asks him around a hum, “Yeah? You’ll let me slip those fucking panties down your legs and get my mouth wherever I want?” 

“Fuck. Please,” Link whines. His tongue feels like it doesn’t fit in his mouth, his entire body hyperfocused on every syllable dripping out of Dave’s mouth. The room around him feels small all of a sudden, like he doesn’t have enough room, and he fucking  _ misses  _ Dave. He wants to be touched, to have Dave drape himself across Link’s whole body, pin him down and sink his teeth into him. 

“What if I asked you to wear them when we go out in public? Maybe I’ll bring the plug I bought you, get it nice and snug inside you and take you to dinner, wearing a nice pair of panties under those tight ass pants you always wear.” 

“Oh gosh,” Link breathes, his hands trembling as he leans back on the bed. “Anything you want,” he says, his face going hot as he does. 

On the other end, Dave sucks in a sharp breath. “Anything, huh?” he asks, and Link wants to know what he’s doing, but lets the question die in his throat in favor of humming in affirmation. “What will you do for me right now?” 

“Wh-- Uh, what do you  _ want  _ me to do right now?” Link asks, his free hand caring through his hair, his voice catching in his throat. He can feel his heart pounding in his chest, that rush of adrenaline fluttering in his veins. 

He settles himself in the center of the bed, his head away from the pillows, his feet dangling off the edge of the bed, and he listens to Dave’s voice curl around the words, “Get your dick out.” 

And Link’s hands tug at the waistband of his pants, get them down around his ankles before he’s slipping a hand into his briefs and grunting at the feeling of his own grip around his cock. He shifts just a bit, and shakily tells Dave, “Okay.” 

“God, baby, you know what I’m really excited about?” Dave says, and he sounds a little breathless. Link groans, his thumb rubbing at the underside of his cock as he listens. “Getting you on your fucking knees in front of me, getting that pretty mouth of yours open. Put a couple fingers in there for me right now.” 

Link doesn’t skip a beat, invested in the tone of Dave’s voice, in doing whatever he asks him to do. Holding his phone up with his shoulder, he presses two fingers against his tongue, slips them back the way Dave does to him, and he can already feel spit sliding down them. It should be gross, should make him recoil, too slick and too weird, but it isn’t; instead, it’s got him squirming, hot and twisting down his spine carefully.

It’s good, and his face heats up as a high whine tumbles out of him. And Dave chuckles at him, low and thick, and it just warms through Link even more.

“Is that good?” Dave asks, and Link nods without thinking about it. He hears something on the other end, hears Dave’s muffled voice for a second, before he’s telling Link, “Alright, baby, I’m being pulled away, but keep me updated, okay?” 

“ _ Dave _ ,” Link gasps, his wet fingers slipping out of his mouth. When he gets a hum in response, a barely-there warning, he sighs and concedes, “Okay.” 

“Talk to you later,” Dave says, and Link can hear the laughter dancing throughout it. 

The call ends, and Link chokes on a sob, squeezing his hand a little tighter. His phone buzzes in his hand, and he almost doesn’t check it, but as he’s putting it down, he catches a glimpse of Dave’s name. When he opens it, he’s met with a picture of Dave’s hand around his cock, his jeans open and his briefs tugged down. 

It’s followed up by a caption that just says  _ ‘Can’t wait to see you. _ ’

Link’s stomach flutters, his pulse hammering in his head, and he jerks himself off slow and easy, wanting to drag it out. There’s something about knowing that Dave is thinking about him right now, is hard and probably distracted because of Link that has him arching into his own fist. It’s so fucking good, and he can’t help but imagine Dave laying in his hotel room later, jerking himself off with Link’s name on his lips. 

A groan falls out of him, and his phone vibrates again. 

_ ‘Want you to come thinking about my tongue in your ass’ _

It’s crass and it’s probably too much, but it’s so  _ Dave  _ that Link’s movement stutters, his hips jerking forward. He can hear the tone of Dave’s voice curling around those words, how his mustache would feel against Link’s skin as he murmured them into the inside of his thighs. It’s so fucking good, and he’s close already. 

Another text comes through. 

_ ‘I’m gonna come later thinking about fucking your face. Getting my cock in that mouth of yours before I get you on your hands and knees, get you wet and open with my mouth and fuck you just like that’  _

And gosh, he can hear that too, low and growled right in his ear as Dave presses into him with two fingers. He sinks his teeth into his bottom lip and revels in the feeling of his own hand wrapped around his cock. It’s enough, and he’s coming just like that, a groan falling out of him as his hips work up into the circle of his fist. 

He breathes through the aftershocks, those moments of sensitivity right before it’s too much for him to handle. Steadying himself, Link tugs his messy shirt off and tosses it onto the floor, groaning in contentment before he’s grabbing for his phone again.

This isn’t something he does, usually, but he imagines Dave is waiting for some sort of response from him. So he makes sure to position his dick in a way that’s at least somewhat appealing, because it would be embarrassing if he didn’t know how to set up a shot, even if his brain is a little sludgy from his orgasm still. His hands are shaking, but he manages to take a decent picture, a little artsy with how he angles it so that Dave can see the line of his torso and the slick mess his cock has left on his belly already. 

He doesn’t think when he hits send, just does it on a whim, his heart pounding, caught in his throat, and he sits up to find another shirt, wash his hands, and go downstairs to grab some water while he waits for a response. 

\--

His response comes later that night, well into the morning. Link only sees it because he wakes up blearily to pee. And it’s obvious Dave is drunk, that post-show adrenaline fueling him just as much as the whiskey, Link is sure. 

He’s got six text messages, an incredibly blurry picture that Link thinks is Dave’s dick, and a voicemail he’s going to wait to listen to. 

He thumbs through the texts, laughing at how the quality of his spelling decreases the further down he gets: 

_ ‘Fuc k Link’ _

_ ‘Wish I coudl be ther’  _

_ ‘Fuk i wa nt to suck ur dic k’  _

_ ‘Just jerkd off aand came so fcukin hard baby’  _

_ ‘God link’  _

_ ‘m gonna fuckin wreck u’’  _

The last one settles hot and thick in his stomach, and it’s too early to call him, but he wants to. He wants to know what he was thinking about when he came, if they could pick up where they left off earlier. 

God, he fucking misses him. 

When he’s done peeing and washing his hands, he rereads through Dave’s texts, tries to make out any details in the picture, but he can’t, not really. And he texts back,  _ ‘hope yours was as good as mine. Call me when you get a chance tomorrow. Miss you.’  _

He hopes it isn’t too sappy and climbs back into bed, reminding himself to listen to the voicemail tomorrow. 

\--

His phone is ringing. That’s the first thing he notices. 

The second thing he notices is that Christy is not in bed with him, so he must have slept longer than he usually does. 

Clearing his throat, he reaches across himself to grab his phone off his nightstand, not even looking at who it is before he’s rasping out a, “Hello?” 

“Mm, you sound hot when you’re waking up,” Dave says, and Link groans around a laugh. “Are you hard?” 

It’s absurd, and Link laughs again. “I don’t know, man. I’m not even awake.” 

“That’s the best kind of boner,” Dave tells him. “So you miss me, huh?” And he sounds so damn cocky about it, teasing and proud, and Link groans. 

“It’s stockholm syndrome,” Link teases back. 

This time, Dave’s laugh is loud and honest. Link wonders how long he’s been awake, how late he fell asleep last night. It’s insane to him how little sleep Dave can run on, even through the vast amount of coffee he drinks throughout the day. If he’s honest, it’s a little unfair, because Link’s whole day is thrown off if he doesn’t get his full eight hours. And he knows for a fact Dave got maybe half that many last night, but here he is, cheerful and energetic as ever. 

“Maybe I’ve just got you so cock-drunk you can’t make good decisions anymore,” Dave chuckles, and Link feels his face heat up. He might be right. Link isn’t sure at the moment. 

Stretching, listening to his joints pop as he does, Link hums into the phone. “How’s-- Uh. Where are you right now?” 

“Fuck if I know,” Dave tells him honestly. “We were in Toronto last night, I know that.” 

“How was Toronto, then?” 

“It was great. What size pants do you wear?” He doesn’t skip a beat, his voice steady, and Link furrows his brow, before rattling off a couple numbers to Dave. “Cool.” 

Link nods, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand as Dave lists off a few things regarding plane tickets and his trip in a few weeks. He hums and agrees along with what he’s being told, and he almost drifts back to sleep at the tone of Dave’s voice, calm and low. He’s mostly asleep when he hears Dave tell him, “Make sure you listen to that voicemail when you’re alone, okay?” There’s a hint of laughter in his voice, and Link perks up at the realization that he’d forgotten about the voicemail entirely. 

“Why?” he asks, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Dave. 

“Well,” he starts, pitching his voice low and syrupy sweet, “I might have called you while I was jerking it last night.” He pauses. “I was a little drunk.” 

“You think?” Link breathes. It’s too early for this, his brain still sleep-addled, but he’s almost positive that Dave is getting off on that at least a little bit. 

There’s a moment of comfortable silence between them before Dave is making a low sound in the back of his throat. “I’ll let you get back to sleep.” 

“Nah,” Link says, his heart fluttering at the idea of Dave hanging up right now. “I gotta get up. Talk to me while I get dressed.” And he rolls out of bed, listening to Dave’s low voice recount stories from the tour. 

He feels good. He can’t wait until he sees him again. 

\--

It turns out, going on holiday with two families is enough to distract Link from remembering he has a potentially incriminating voicemail from an incredibly influential musician with whom he’s gotten into various types of debauchery with. 

It  _ also  _ turns out that when Dave is on a tour bus, he likes to waste his time by sending Link unsolicited dick pics at the post inopportune times, and when Jessie thought he was looking for a picture she’d asked him about, leaning over his shoulder to see--  

Well, Link can pretty safely say that Dave would be pleased by her reaction. 

\--

Plane rides always leave him kind of shaky. Even wrapped up in a hoodie and a thick pair of joggers, he’s cold, and his ears ache. The driver they sent him is nice, and Link appreciates that he avoids small-talk in favor of letting Link close his eyes for a bit. He’d slept on the plane, but he feels like he’s disconnected from himself. He’d flown here directly from Cabo, and after a fourteen hour flight, he’s ready to feel human again. 

He wants to be stationary for longer than ten minutes, to ground himself somehow. 

It isn’t a long drive, and he’s grateful for it, opens his eyes eventually to take in how beautiful the city is. The hotel Dave is staying at is nicer than anything Link has ever seen in real life, and as soon as they pull up, he sucks in a sharp breath. His door is opened for him, his bags taken out from the back, and he’s lead up to a very quiet hall. 

“Mr. Grohl said for you to just go in when you arrived,” the very polite concierge tells him, his accent thick and pleasant. He hands Link a key, and makes his way back to the elevators. It all feels like it happens in the same ten minutes, a little unreal, his hands tingling with anticipation.

Link doesn’t wait to unlock the door, feeling his anxiety spiking the longer he stands out here, exhausted and lonesome and desperate to see Dave. 

Inside, the room is huge, well decorated and littered with little things that show that Dave has been here for a couple days already. He’s got an open whiskey bottle and an ashtray on a coffee table, his keys and wallet on the bedside table. There’s a pair of jeans balled up in the armchair. And Link spots him on the balcony, leaning against the railing while he smokes. 

Leaving his suitcase where it is, he ignores the fact that his eyes are stinging just from seeing Dave’s back, and makes his way through to the sliding glass door. It’s cracked open just a bit, and barely makes a sound as he opens it, and Link realizes he’s got music playing from his phone and doesn’t hear him approach. Link watches him tamp out his cigarette, blowing out a thick line of smoke as he does. 

He uses the opportunity to press in close, get his arms around Dave’s middle, chuckling when he jumps at the feeling. 

“Shit,” Dave laughs. “You scared the fuck out of me.” His hands find Link’s arms, slide along them comfortingly. 

And Dave turns, gets his arms around Link, too, pulls him close. He’s warm and solid, and this time Link can’t help the stinging in his eyes, the tension in his body lessening as Dave’s hands rub at his back. “Missed you,” Link tells him, murmuring into his neck. 

“I missed you too, baby,” Dave says, and Link twists, surges up so that he can slot their mouths together. 

It’s the best kiss he’s ever had, wet and deep and desperate already, because he’s fucking  _ missed  _ him. It’s been months, and he’s just happy to be able to touch him again, to be able to get his hands in Dave’s hair and pull him closer. There’s something about the way Dave curls into him, encourages him back through the sliding glass door, the hand on the small of his back holding him to Dave firmly, that leaves him lightheaded. The way his tongue slides against Link’s, how he tastes like cigarettes and coffee, and Link whines high in the back of his throat. 

The back of his knees hit the edge of the bed, and Dave lets him tumble back onto the mattress, staring down at him as he catches his breath. A groan falls out of him, thick and loud and sending a shiver down Link’s spine. 

“Fuck, Link,” Dave says, eyes raking over Link hotly. “Fucking look at you.” 

“Could do more than that, if you wanted,” Link tells him, and Dave laughs. 

“Anything I want, right?” And his hands fall onto Link’s thighs, thumbs rubbing at the sensitive insides, fingers digging in just a little bit. 

Link’s stomach twists nicely, and he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip as he nods, arching up into the feeling of Dave’s hands on him. When Dave chuckles again, nodding along with Link and asking, “Yeah?” he gets his hands around Link’s ankles and tugs him further down the bed, until his ass is on the very edge. 

Spreading Link’s thighs, he presses in close, leans down to angle his hips so that he can rock forward, dragging the line of his cock against Link’s. “Gosh, Dave,” Link groans, tilting his hips up into the pressure. 

“How was your flight?” Dave asks, and Link laughs. 

“You really want to do the small talk thing right now?” 

Grinning, Dave shrugs. “Why not?” 

“I’m a little distracted,” Link teases, and Dave’s fingers dig into his thighs. 

He says, “I could distract you some more.” 

“That’s what I’m hoping for,” Link tells him, reaching up to grab at him, tug him down and press their mouths together. 

Dave sighs into Link’s mouth, and gets one hand on the back of his head to manhandle him how he wants. It has Link shuddering into the feeling, arching into him for more, but Dave uses his other hand to press at his chest, push him back down into the mattress. And he’s completely underneath Dave, held down by his hand, his hips. 

Somehow, this is the best. Link is mostly hard, and more than a little emotional just from being here, and it’s so nice to be this close to Dave. 

Even nicer when he moves his hand, holds Link’s jaw open so he can kiss him wet and filthy, lips sliding over Link’s, tongue hot and slick against Link’s. 

Dave is good with his mouth, and he knows it, and Link feels himself start to tremble already, just from this. And when Dave pulls away, it’s so that he can murmur, “I fuckin’ missed you.”

“Yeah?” Link asks, feeling his face go hot. 

Dave just hums, buries his face in Link’s neck to press a wet line of kisses there. He tugs a yelp out of Link when he sinks his teeth in, sucking around a mouthful, and he holds Link down even firmer when he starts to squirm. And when he’s done, he says, “Fuck yeah, I did. Gonna let me fuck you?” 

He reaches his hand down, cups over Link’s dick and squeezes just right, just hard enough to have Link groaning around it, his hips rocking up into the feeling. Link breathes out a thick, heavy, “ _ Please _ .” 

Dave chuckles warmly, clearly pleased. “Gonna let me eat you out?” he asks, squeezing again. 

It punches a whine out of Link, has him tossing one of his arms over his eyes as he wriggles helplessly. He nods, and then his arm is being pulled away from his face as Dave tells him, “Ask for it.” 

“Gosh, Dave,” Link groans. “I said ‘please’ already.”

“Come on,” Dave tells him. It’s a thing for him, Link knows, hearing the words, hearing Link ask him for it. And it settles hotly in the base of Link’s stomach, a wave of embarrassment rushing through him at the idea of asking, of  _ begging _ . 

But that’s what Dave wants. 

So Link sucks in a breath, lets it out in a rush, and asks, “Please, will you eat me out?” 

All teeth, Dave grins at him. “Let’s go take a shower.” 

“Wh-- What?” Link asks, furrowing his brow. 

“You taste like an airplane,” Dave tells him. “Come take a shower with me. I’ll make it sexy, I promise.” 

Link groans as Dave sits up, obviously serious, but he begrudgingly reaches up and makes grabby hands for Dave to help him up. 

His knees pop angrily, and he groans, reaches down to adjust himself in his pants, noting how Dave watches him. He feels like Dave’s been teasing him for months, since that first phone call, when he’d hung up on him. Twice now, Dave has worked him up, gotten him convinced they were going somewhere, only to dump a bucket of cold water over his head and leave him hanging. 

His stomach twists for a second, and he asks, “You doing this on purpose?” 

“Doing what?” Dave asks, reaching out to tug at the hem of Link’s shirt. When Link lifts his arms up and lets him pull it over and off, he catches Dave’s grin. 

Link huffs, lets him continue plucking his clothes off of him, his fingers finding their way to the ties on Link’s pants. “Gettin’ me all worked up and then stopping, man.” 

At that, Dave hums, gets his thumbs in the waistband of Link’s pants and starts slipping them down. There’s a moment where Link’s breath catches in his throat and he swears his vision swims, because this is a game, this is a  _ thing _ for Dave. 

“Maybe I like you a little desperate for it,” Dave tells him. And it’s hot and heavy right in the base of Link’s stomach, has him leaning forward to press their mouths together as Dave is slipping his pants down his hips. 

They pull away so that Link can help by shimmying out of them the rest of the way, and then he’s grabbing for Dave’s shirt. It’s unfair that he’s the only one undressed, and he makes quick work of tossing it next to his own on the floor. His skin is warm when Link lays his palm flat on the center of his chest. 

“You’re so...hairless,” Link says, and Dave snorts. 

Link scrubs his fingers across smooth skin, getting his hands on Dave’s sides just for to feel the solidity of it, just to touch, and Dave wriggles just a little bit under Link’s touch, making a sound in the back of his throat. 

Link would give anything to get Dave entirely under his touch, to spend hours getting his hands on every inch of him. He’ll have to ask later, maybe next time they’re together, because he knows Dave has plans for tonight. 

“Get outta these,” Dave tells him, plucking at Link’s briefs before he’s undoing his own pants, tugging them down his hips. “I made us dinner reservations for seven.” 

And Link can’t help the groan that falls out of him. It’s rude, and he knows it, but when he chances a glance over at Dave, he’s met with a cocksure grin that tells Link everything he needs to know. 

He’ll play along. 

It’s gonna suck, sitting through some fancy dinner with a hard-on for who knows how long, but he’ll play along. 

If he knows Dave at all, it’ll be well worth his trouble. 

\--

The shower isn’t sexy, not even a little bit, mostly just Dave handing Link products to scrub himself with, familiar to Link. It gets a little clinical when Dave tells him he’s gonna let Link finish up and grab his clothes for him. The implication is thin-veiled, and Link can feel his face heat up, but Dave just tugs him close for a wet kiss and leaves him to it. 

He feels better after a shower, clean and refreshed, and it’s good. He feels good. 

There’s a nice stack of his clothes folded on the edge of the counter, and a pair of lacy, delicate panties folded neatly on top. Link’s stomach flips, and he finishes drying off completely before grabbing them. 

And gosh. 

They’re barely anything at all. Soft to the touch, embroidered in a floral pattern, they’re mostly straps. There’s nothing in the back, just two thin straps that Link guesses are supposed to frame him. They’re beautiful, light gold and light blue, and he tries hard not to think about how much they probably cost Dave. 

Instead, he hangs his towel up, scrubs his hands over his face, and slips them on. It’s hard to adjust himself modestly at first, to make sure that everything is as tucked in as possible, but he figures that’s part of it, right? This is about visuals, so as long as he looks nice, it doesn’t really matter beyond that.

They fit nicely, if a little low in the front where his dick fills them out way more than intended. But the straps don’t dig into his skin and they’re softer than anything he’s ever put on his crotch before. He runs his fingers over the embroidery and breathes out a laugh. 

This is absurd, right? He took a fourteen hour flight today from Cabo to Paris to meet his boyfriend, who then scrubbed him down in a shower and stuck him in deliciously lavish panties built for a small, flat frame. And here he is, standing in them in the middle of a luxury French hotel, his dick completely visible and stretching out the fabric just a little bit, with Dave Grohl standing in another room, waiting for him so they can go to dinner. 

When all the puzzle pieces start falling into place in his brain, he realizes how incredible all of this is. 

And he looks at himself one more time in the mirror, makes sure his junk is secure in the panties, and reaches to start pulling on the rest of his clothes. 

Dave had managed to piece together a nice outfit out of the couple options Link had packed, a dark pair of pants with a light grey shirt, a tie that Link did not pack. Link’s got a jacket somewhere in his suitcase he’ll throw on over it all. He looks good. 

Nobody would ever guess he was wearing panties under all of this. 

In fact, he knows he’ll forget at some point, because he can’t feel them. They don’t feel much different than his briefs do, when he wears those. They don’t leave lines in his pants, and for a second, he flushes with how good he feels, knowing the reaction he’s going to get from Dave later. 

Smoothing his hands over his shirt, he meanders out of the bathroom. 

Dave is buttoning his own shirt, turning towards Link as he does. He gives Link a once over and grins, nods his head. “Not too shabby,” he teases. 

Link laughs, feeling his stomach flutter, and he walks over to push Dave’s hands away, taking over the task of thumbing the buttons through the holes. He smells nice, like cologne, and Link says, “This place must be pretty fancy.” 

Dave hums, grins. “It’s a nice restaurant.” 

“You know that I’m a pretty simple man, right?” Link teases. 

“There’s steak,” Dave tells him. “I made sure there was something there for your picky ass.” 

And Link can’t help his laugh, leaning in and slotting their mouths together. It feels good, being like this with him. It’s their first real date, and Link’s stomach drops at the realization. He pulls away, making a sound in the back of his throat when Dave’s hands find their way to Link’s ass, holding him close. 

“Did you fly me to France to take me on a date?” 

Dave’s laugh is smooth, like silk, like honey, and it settles sweetly in the base of Link’s spine. It slips down the back of his throat in thick waves, and warms through his veins. “I flew you to France because I missed you.” 

“Yeah,” Link agrees. “And to have our first date, apparently.” 

“I’m being romantic,” Dave laughs. “I figured this was better than taking you to fucking In and Out.” 

Link doesn’t let the, “I like In and Out,” tumble out of him, replacing it with, “This is pretty good, I’ve gotta admit.” 

And Dave kisses him again, slow and sweet and soft, and Link melts into him just a little bit. He’s a little exhausted, a little stiff and sore, but this is good. This is perfect, and honestly, he doesn’t need dinner. He just needs this. 

But he lets Dave drag him out of the door anyway, slipping his hand into Link’s and walking him down to the car. 

\--

The thing about sitting in a fancy French restaurant whilst wearing panties, Link learns, is that no matter how soft and comfortable they are, he knows they’re there. And Dave knows they’re there. He knows the lines to look for and he knows where to let his hand pass as the two of them are walking into the building, pressed far too close together to be inconspicuous. 

It’s a gentle, fleeting touch, but it heats Link up entirely. He can’t stop thinking about it, and as he’s squirming in his seat, sipping some expensive, fruity cocktail, Dave laughs at him, asks, “Are they uncomfortable?” 

And Link chokes on his drink just a little bit, eyes going wide, and he can feel how hot his face gets around his nervous laugh. His eyes are watering, and Dave looks so disgustingly  _ pleased  _ with himself. Over the rim of his glass, Link shoots him a look. 

“They’re comfortable,” Link tells him, shaking his head. 

Dave hums in the back of his throat, tugs his glasses back down onto his face to read through the tiny menu they were handed. It’s sleek and posh and written entirely in French. So Link says, “Order for me.” 

It’s a game, really. He’s playing the game Dave wants him to play. In reward, he gets a warm, happy smile, and a nod. Then, as if an afterthought, a, “Say please.” 

And gosh, if that doesn’t have him squirming. This is new. It’s different and new and it’s settling in the base of Link’s spine, and they’re in public. 

“Please,” he says, his face on fire, his hands trembling just a little. “Please order for me.” 

Dave gives him a warm look, smug and pleased. He pauses, says, “Good boy.” 

\---

The food is good. Dave orders Link a steak, like he’d mentioned, and it’s the best steak Link’s ever had in his life. They have a few drinks, and Link honestly, somehow forgets that he’s wearing panties. 

He just forgets. 

Until Dave’s slipping his hands under the waistband of his pants, back in the hotel room, thumbing along the fabric with a thick groan. 

“God, Link,” he says, low and heavy, and Link leans forward to bury his face in Dave’s neck. And it isn’t until Dave’s hands are encouraging his shirt up and off that he moves. He doesn’t bother with taking any time, getting Link out of his clothes until he’s standing in the middle of the room in just that pair of panties. “Fuck.” 

“Yeah?” Link asks, a little breathless, a little nervous. Because gosh, he’s certain he looks ridiculous, cock hard and filling out these tiny little panties too much. But Dave makes a sound, gets his hands on Link’s hips so he can guide him backwards. 

Once Link’s legs hit the edge of the mattress, he’s being manhandled into turning around. And it’s even more embarrassing like this somehow, with his ass on display. But Dave, from somewhere behind him just says, “You’re so fucking pretty, you know that?” 

Link laughs a little, shakes his head as Dave is encouraging him onto the bed. When he peaks over his shoulder, Link gets to watch him slipping his own shirt over his head, hands rushing to work at the button of his pants. Link turns so that he can watch Dave, plops down in the middle of the bed. 

Once he’s down to his boxers, Dave moves to walk towards the suitcase he has tucked away in the corner of the room. Link glances down at himself, at how he’s filling out the panties, obscene and absurd. He tells Dave, “You’ve got pretty good taste,” as he traces the tip of his finger over one of the flowers. 

They’re beautiful, even if Link thinks he’s stretching them out too much. He gets the appeal. 

Dave, from across the room, groans as if he’s in pain, and Link flits his eyes up to catch him reaching down to cup his hand over his own cock. He’s got a bottle of lube in one hand, and he’s staring at Link. 

“Go ahead,” Dave tells him, moving to slip his hand into his own boxers. And he sucks his top lip between his teeth as he nods at Link to keep going. 

So he does, with a soft, disbelieving laugh, running his fingers gently across the fabric. Making a show of arching into his own touch, Link sneaks a look over at Dave, at how he’s stepping out of his boxers. And right as Dave is wrapping his fist around his own cock, Link makes a move at trying to get his hand inside these panties. 

“Nuh-uh,” Dave tells him, gruff and short. “Keep them on.” 

So Link cups his hand over himself instead, whining embarrassingly. “Come on, Dave.” 

It earns him a chuckle, teasing and low, and then Dave is walking forward, the bed dipping under the weight of him. He stays near the foot, plopping the lube unceremoniously next to Link. He doesn’t touch Link, doesn’t move, and he says, “Flip over.”

And Link’s stomach does a summersault. He groans heavily, moves to get on his knees instead. When his head falls to rest on his crossed arms, his back arched in a way that’s comfortable for him, Dave sucks in a sharp breath. There’s the warm touch of his hand to the small of Link’s back, and then he’s pressing forward, the hard feeling of his cock against Link’s thigh before he’s lining himself up in the crack of his ass. He says, “God, baby, I can’t get over the fact that you wore these for me.” 

Link doesn’t hold back the, “Anything you want,” this time, and Dave makes a low, rough sound. 

“That’s right, huh?” he says, and Link can feel the wet tip of his dick leaving a mess against his skin. 

It’s gone almost as soon as it was there, and Link almost misses the feeling. There’s barely a beat before Dave’s mouth is on the small of his back, warm and wet and working its way down. Link counts them in his head, every time Dave’s damp lips touch his skin in a new spot--  _ one, two, three _ ...

It takes six before he’s getting his hands on Link’s ass. They feel bigger than usual, rougher than usual, and Link sucks in a sharp breath. Right against his skin, he hears Dave ask, “Know why I bought these?” 

Link’s got a good idea, but still, “Why?” It comes out soft, breathy, nervous. And when Dave’s hands stutter for just a second, a silent question, Link presses back into them in answer. 

Barely a beat passes before Dave is holding him open, thumbs dipping between his cheeks. And Link sucks in a sharp breath, letting it out in a groan at the first feel of Dave’s tongue on his hole.

Gosh, it’s good. It’s so fucking good, rushing through him all at once, and he wonders if it’ll fade, if he’ll get used to the feeling. But then Dave is pushing at him harder, pressing spit into his skin with his tongue, getting Link obscenely wet. There’s a line of spit rolling down the inside of his thigh already, and Dave points the end of his tongue. 

There’s a howl building in the base of Link’s throat, tumbling out of him by way of embarrassing whimpers as he scrambles his arm behind him to find purchase on Dave’s hair. And as he’s tangling his fingers in it, Dave is spreading him even wider, his tongue just barely pressing inside. 

Somehow, that’s even better, and he’s rocking back into it, hearing the sound that drips out of his mouth, slurred and choked off at the end. There’s another sound, muffled and slick, and Link realizes it comes from Dave right as he’s pulling away for just long enough to slip his thumb inside. 

And Link arches against him, searches for that contact again absentmindedly with a sob of, “Fuck, Dave.” 

He feels Dave’s pinkies playing with the straps as he licks, the feeling of his spit almost gross, but spurring Link on even more. 

Gosh. God-- Link’s whole body is alight, attuned to the tip of Dave’s tongue, to the entirety of it when he presses it flat against Link’s hole, wet and how and almost too much. And the gentle, almost tickling feeling of his pinkies skimming along the thin straps of the panties, a reminder that they’re there, that Dave picked these out just for this, has been thinking about this just as long-- maybe longer-- than Link has been. 

It’s so fucking good. Link squeezes his eyes shut, tightens his fingers in Dave hair until he hears him groan, chokes on another sob that builds and crests in time with Dave’s thumb slipping out and sliding right back inside of him. 

He’s got spit on his balls, slipping down the insides of his thighs. He’s a mess, and Dave doesn’t seem to care, his thumb stretching Link open while he licks a wet stripe over him. When his beard brushes Link’s skin, it’s wet, too. 

“Gosh,” Link groans, his throat catching on the word. He can feel himself starting to tremble, can feel that familiar twist in his stomach. It’s sweet and low and hot. 

Link’s arm falls away from where he’s still gripping Dave’s hair and Dave pulls away for a moment, slips his thumb out, leaves Link with nothing at all. Link whines in the back of his throat without meaning to, chases the feeling, and Dave chuckles warmly, places his hands on Link’s hips and slides them in until he’s thumbing at the dip of his spine. 

“Dave,” Link says, his voice shaking just a little, his body strung tight. 

Dave hums. He promises, “I’m not done with you.” 

Link relaxes into the mattress just a little, his shoulders dropping back down. Dave’s hands move back around to his hips, and he manhandles Link onto his back again in one quick movement. 

Like this, it’s better. He can see Dave, can reach out and get his hands on him for that moment of grounding. It’s good. It’s better. 

And Dave reaches out to touch too, gets his hands on Link’s chest to squeeze before he’s dragging his fingers down the expanse of him, down to his cock, cupping him through the panties. They’re wet where the head is, through and through, and Link groans. “Good gosh, Dave,” he hisses. “Come on, baby.” 

“You’ve been good,” Dave concedes, and Link can see him reaching for the lube with his free hand. “You’ve been so fucking good, Link.” 

“Please,” Link breathes, his head dropping back onto the bed and his eyes falling shut at the feeling of Dave’s slick fingers pressing at him. 

And Dave hums in agreement, two fingers slipping inside carefully, slow and easy and just fucking right. “Yeah, Link.” 

“ _ Oh _ ,” Link gasps, his fingers digging in where they’re pressed at Dave’s sides. He’s warm and solid and just what Link needs right now. Because gosh, he feels himself shaking, just from this. But he’s been waiting, been hard for what feels like forever, aching and patient and so fucking  _ good  _ for Dave. 

“Oh, Link,” Dave murmurs. “God, you’re so fucking good.” 

And Link thinks, absently, that he might be crying, but he doesn’t care. He feels like all of his air has been punched out of him, and Dave isn’t even moving his fingers, is just holding them there, filling Link up just like this. He doesn’t care. It’s almost enough. 

“Please,” he says again, his jaw slurring around the word, his eyes still closed, and he doesn’t even know what he’s asking for anymore, because Dave’s got his fingers inside of him and he’s got his hand still cupped over Link’s cock. And it’s good, it’s so fucking good, but he needs something else, too, but Link doesn’t know what. He doesn’t care what. 

Dave can do whatever he fucking wants. 

“I know I can,” Dave says, sweet and filthy and proud, and Link doesn’t realize he’s talking, that he’s still slurring around words. 

And it’s not until Link says, “Please fuck me,” that Dave is slipping his fingers out, lining up the blunt head of his cock to Link’s hole instead. 

With his free hand, he rubs the slick head over where Link is wet, stretched, and he says, “You’re fucking perfect. Flew all the way out here to let me put you in panties and fuck you however I wanted.”

“Missed you,” Link says, rocking his hips down, trying, but Dave doesn’t give in just yet.  

“I missed you, too,” Dave tells him. And Link knows he means it. He’s choking down a lump of emotion when Dave finally-- god, fucking  _ finally _ \-- starts to press inside. 

His mouth falls open around a sound, thick and heavy, and he opens his eyes just to watch the way Dave’s brows furrow, how he’s trembling just so, too. 

And fuck--

Fuck, it’s good. The stretch, the ache, the feeling of being full after being teased for so long, being brought to this edge over and over again. Being pressed this close is incredible, and Link finds himself slurring around the words, “Thank you.” 

“Mm, you’re fucking welcome,” Dave tells him, pulling out nearly all the way before pressing back inside slow and deep and so fucking good. Link can feel his free hand land on his hip, the one cupped around his cock squeezing just so. “Gonna come inside these pretty little panties for me, Link?” 

The words wrap around the base of Link’s spine and drip down into his stomach, thick and hot, and he arches up into Dave’s hand. Dave’s hair has fallen in his face, his beard still wet with his own spit, and gosh, he’s fucking beautiful. Link reaches out to touch him again, gets his hands on his chest just for the contact. 

Dave goes to move again, that sweet, tight feeling of him pulling out, and Link moves his hand down to his stomach, pants around a, “Fuck, wait.” It rushes out of him, and he’s shuddering once as Dave is already pressing back inside, an apologetic sound punching out of him as he does. 

Link clenches down around him with a moan, his whole body going taut, that feeling of Dave’s hand on him, the feeling of his cock stretching him out, everything all at once building up suddenly before he’s tossing his head back with a too-loud moan as he comes. 

“God, you feel so fucking good,” Dave groans, moving his hand when Link makes a weak sound as he’s coming down. 

Link wriggles against him, his chest heaving, his eyes a little damp around the edges. He’s sensitive, that familiar jolt of sensation leaving his hips jerking up against Dave’s. But when Dave goes to pull out, he murmurs, “Keep fucking me.” 

Cursing under his breath, Dave’s hips stutter. The sensation of still being full is nice, the ache dragging him back down to reality, to now, and it gives him an excuse to go a bit boneless and let Dave use him like this. And gosh, that thought alone makes his cock twitch as he groans. 

He slides his hands over Dave’s chest, to his sides, and he asks, “You gonna come inside me?” 

“Yeah.  _ Fuck _ , baby.” And Link can feel Dave tense, can feel his cock twitch inside of him. He hums, grins, hisses through the sensitivity. 

He moves his hands to card through his own hair, stretching out against Dave’s thrusts into him. It’s good, and he shudders through it, that change in angle as he moves. “Come on,” he encourages. “Gosh, Dave. Come inside me, baby.” 

His grip on Link’s hips tightens, and he pulls almost completely out, just the head of his cock still inside of Link. Link watches him, a little breathless, as he jerks the few inches he doesn’t have inside of Link, groaning roughly as he comes. 

And then he’s pulling out abruptly, resting his cock against Link’s, coming across the lace of the panties with a gruff sound. Almost too fast, he swoops down and smashes their mouths together, beard still grossly damp, but Link doesn’t even care at this point. 

When he slips his tongue past Link’s lips, Link makes a displeased sound and ignores Dave’s breathy, teasing laugh. 

They pull away, and Dave says, “Don’t tell me that grosses you out.” 

“I know where that mouth was, man.” 

“Yeah,” Dave agrees, sounding pleased and smug, and Link stretches out with a groan. 

He feels good, feels like he could sleep for a couple of days straight.

But when Dave sinks a couple of fingers back inside of him, slow and easy, watching Link’s face carefully for any indication of discomfort, Link knows his night is far from over. 

\-- 

Dave spends thirty minutes the morning Link has to leave convincing Link that nobody would be able to tell what they were doing if Dave blew him on the balcony. 

“It’s Paris, that’s what people do,” is his reasoning. 

So, of course, Link winds up leaning against the railing with Dave on his knees in front of him, hoping that the partition around the outside of the railing isn’t see-through. 

\--

When he gets home, there’s a package waiting for him. 

Christy and the kids are out, but he’s got two bottles of wine for her in his luggage, both of them expensive and probably too much for his palate, but he knows Christy will enjoy them, and probably share them with Rhett. 

Next to the package waiting for him is another bottle of wine and a note. 

It’s handwritten, so he genuinely has no idea how it made its way inside the house at first, and then he notices the one with a more familiar handwriting that says, ‘Your boyfriend made me break into your house. --Rhett’ 

He unfolds the letter sitting in front of the wine, and all it says is: 

_ Christy,  _

_ It isn’t the best wine in the world, but I thought the name was fitting. Link’s got the good stuff.  _

_ Much love, Dave. _

In curly, cursive letters, the label proudly reads  _ Menage A Trois,  _ and Link nearly chokes. 

And there’s another note taped to the box addressed to Link. 

This one reads:

_ Link,  _

_ Figured you should keep these. See you in May.  _

_ Love,  _

_ Dave  _

He knows what’s inside before he even opens the box, and his face is hot as he does. 

They’ve been dry-cleaned, and his face gets even hotter when he realizes that. But they’re folded neatly, sitting on top of chocolates shaped like penises, and Link can’t help but bark out  laugh as he folds the panties and tucks them into the front pocket of his luggage. The chocolates he decides to take to work with him, share with Rhett since he’s so curious. 

And later, when he shows Christy the panties, unfolds them and watches her take a sip of expensive wine, she tells him, “Oh, Link, he’s got us spoiled already, hasn’t he?” 

He doesn’t think she’s wrong. 

But he isn’t gonna admit it yet. 


End file.
